


Sacrifices

by were_duck



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Beltane, M/M, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Sex Magic, Sex Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_duck/pseuds/were_duck
Summary: commentfic from the prompt "Shadowhunters: Magnus and sex magic (Alec can be there too, or a former lover)"





	Sacrifices

"Are you sure about this?" 

Magnus takes Alec's hand, pressing his lips to the back of Alec's fingers. He waits for Alec's nervous glances to fall on him.

"We don't have to do this, Alexander," Magnus says, letting his voice drop into the register he reserves for moments of truth beyond the airy affectations that make his life more interesting. 

"No, I... want to. I want to know this about you, about us," Alec says, and his brown eyes are just so irresistibly deep. 

"You're not the only one who's nervous," Magnus says, turning Alec's hand over and pressing his lips to the pulse point on his wrist. He delights in the subtle shiver that elicits. He watches for the moment the feeling rolls up his arm and Alec's pupils widen. "But we're ready, Alec. This... this is ours."

Alec breathes in, and Magnus knows from experience that his awkward stillness is masking an internal struggle between what Alec thinks he needs and what he thinks he wants. He waits patiently, knowing already from the half smile edging itself onto Alec's face that they will be stepping through the ornate oak doors in moments.

"You know you are unfairly beautiful, right? I just... your mouth..." Alec whispers, leaning in to brush a dry kiss across Magnus's lips. Magnus moans a little bit, chasing after Alec's mouth and pushing him up against the door. 

"Pretty words on pretty lips, my dear," Magnus chuckles, and just barely catches himself before going for Alec's belt buckle. "Damnit," he says, clenching his fists and trying to come up with the least appealing thing he can in order to douse his libido. That time he caught Simon and Clary making out in his kitchen was certainly awful.

"This is Beltane, Alec," Magnus says, taking six inches' space and placing it firmly between them. "We're already being affected by the energy pouring out of that room. You've chosen to come here, you've opted in every step of the way. Please, Alexander. I want to hear it one more time before we give ourselves over... do you want this?" He makes himself say it lightly, as if Alec's answer doesn't much concern him one way or another. 

Alec breathes a moment, his (rudely) tight black shirt heaving ever-so-slightly across his shoulders. "You said... you said this was a warlock thing. A space for heightened magic through hedonism, making something more through letting something go. Magnus... I've spent my whole life denying myself, putting everyone else, the Clave, duty, family, before me. How about," his smile is bright, and a little wicked as he steps forward, twisting his fingers into the purple paisley of Magnus's tie, "for once, doing something I want more than almost anything else. If you want it too, I mean," he says, faltering just slightly, then laughing as Magnus claims him for another kiss.

They startle apart as the oak doors swing open, a heady mix of scents, sounds, and shadows spilling through. Catarina pokes her head out the door, smirking. "Coming?"

"Yes," Alec says, grabbing Magnus's hand and stepping through the doors before she has a chance to comment further.

The room is dark, filled with lushly upholstered furniture and rugs so thick Magnus almost regrets still wearing shoes. A low, hypnotic tangle of music thrums between sound and magical essence, enveloping each person in the room. Magnus recognizes several of the usual suspects--warlocks and their paramours, a number of fae, even a couple of mundanes and shadowhunters. A few look up to note their arrival, but most are preoccupied with lovers or spectating the truly remarkable magical double suspension currently in progress in the middle of the room. Magnus couldn't help but be impressed at the precision required to raise not one but two naked people into cords of magic, one with a deer skull flickering in and out of reality crowning his dark hair, the other striped in blood. Patterns in blue woad swirl like snakes around each of them, twining around the green and yellow magic and twist the two men around one another with such careful attention to detail. Their positions shift slightly, but the tension vibrates in the mere inches held between them at all times, keeping them bound but never touching. _Yes_ , he thinks, admiring the view as both of the suspended men strain against the bonds keeping them apart, panting and glistening with sweat, _certainly an effective centerpiece for the evening's festivities_.

"Wow," Alec breathes, and even in the dim light Magnus can see he's close to overwhelmed. The men in the air are being held above a huge inset pillowed drop in the floor, in which more than a dozen people in various states of undress are writhing and, yes, a few are fucking or giving themselves to more... esoteric kinds of pleasure.

"The party started early," Magnus says, wrapping his arms around Alec and pressing their hips together, giving a slow grind to the tempo of the room. "In the city we usually forego the ritual hunt, but as you can see the rites are still observed in the old ways, adapted to new spaces. Now, remember," he says seriously, skimming his palm up under Alec's shirt to press against his chest, blue magic swirling from his fingers as he matches their heartbeats to the pulsing, pounding rhythms in the air. "In order for the magic to be strong enough to be harnessed and contained in the ritual, we'll have to save the moment of release as long as possible."

"You are so full of shit," Alec laughs, and Magnus is delighted to find himself pressed into a damask chair, while Alec does his awkward, innocent best to ravish him of all his clothes.

They pause, panting gently, the moans and squeals and laughter of other revelers buffeting the space surrounding them like wind rattling a loose pane. Magnus feels his eyes turn cat, grateful yet again for how little Alec cares about it. His witchmark lets him see the heat of his partner, warmth layering over his skin and pinking his cheeks. Magnus's suit is already beyond salvage, soaked with sweat and spit from both of them. They're sprawled unceremoniously across the chair, limbs akimbo and the delicious heavy weight of Alec rubbing restlessly, needfully, against Magnus's body. His cock is already achingly hard, and with a slight shift of his hips he feels the evidence of Alec's mutual interest driving against his thigh.

Alec pauses, gasping, but still tense. "This is... there are a lot of people here. How is this... is this okay? Should we be doing this?" he asks, his body struck through with a familiar tension. 

"Mmmm. Take a look," Magnus says, helping Alec to turn awkwardly around to face the center of the room. The tableau has erupted with more writhing bodies, including a couple more beautiful people lifted in a complicated arrangement of bodies and bondage, suspended from competing colors of magic drawn by three warlocks Magnus can see working from chairs spaced around the room. "Here, in this place, we consecrate ourselves, some deep piece of us, to one another and to this space. We are giving one another this gift of action, of vulnerability. What can you give now, Alec?"

Alec stares, watching as the men floating midair strain toward one another, fingers digging into flesh in desperate reaching touches. 

"They want this. We want this. We are here to give of ourselves as we choose, with no one to tell us words like shouldn't. Or mustn't. Or can't. Do you see?" As they watch, the men in midair finally gain purchase on one another, their bodies colliding and the magic binding them instantly reforming to support them as they grasp and grapple with one another, heedless of the orgy below.

Alec settles into himself, muscles relaxing in that supple way he so rarely lets himself indulge. He kisses Magnus, distracting him from the tableau ahead of them, then slides himself to his knees at Magnus's feet. "I think I see. I'm ready, Magnus. Please... I want to give you - us - this."

"My darling," Magnus says, letting the magic float to his fingertips like it's nothing, like it's air. "I'm about to make our walk home very interesting." The blue of Magnus's magic rips at Alec's clothes, shredding the thin cotton of his shirt and the canvas of his slacks like tissue into long continuous lengths. Magnus flicks his fingers, and the lengths whip themselves around Alec's ankles and wrists, binding him in place.

"If you can come like this," Magnus says, inspiration striking, "Without anything touching you but the bindings, I'll make you a gorgeous new suit for the ride home."

"I hate you," Alec mutters.

"Ah ah ah," Magnus chides, carefully unwrapping his own tie and admiring it for a regretful moment before sacrificing it to the pleasure before him. "Trust me, darling. I'll make it worth your while. Shake your head if you need out," he says, delighting in the moment Alec's confused face smoothes and flushes with understanding as Magnus holds the tie out, draped between his hands in front of Alec's mouth. Alec parts his lips, breathing shallowly and never dropping eye contact as Magnus settles the silk in his mouth and ties it off firmly at the back of his head. The gag will do, he thinks, taking a moment to bury his fingers in Alec's hair and pull sharply. 

"Ah kn shtll ahlk," Alec says, then gasps as Magnus yanks his hair in the less fun way.

"Multiple lines of communication for maximum safety, pet. Now," Magnus says, smirking. "Let me look at you." He settles back into the chair, knowing his debauched ensemble is only adding to Alec's arousal. He takes his time unbuckling his belt. The sounds of the room fade away in the intensity of Alec's gaze, flickering between watching Magnus's face and staring at his hands as he slowly unzips himself, pulls his cock out, and takes several long, slow strokes.

"Should I come on your face, Alec? Rub it over your skin, your lips, your hair, the way the hunters used to anoint themselves with blood and blue earth? Do you think that gift would please the old gods of the forest?" Magnus keeps his voice light, almost conversational, but there's no hiding the physical reaction he has to Alec, bound, gagged, and focused exclusively on him. "Or should I take you for myself? Make you taste the offering, take me into yourself? Given the choice, would you give this offering up to the gods, or would the temptation be too great? To feel me filling you, taking your mouth and throat, marking you for mine?"

Alec's gag is soaked through, and a small rivulet of spit is dripping down his chin. He's sweaty, unnerved, and unerring in his focus on Magnus.

Magnus doesn't let up, letting the words fall away to self-indulgent groans as he throws himself into the orgasm he barely needs to work for. He catches his come in his palm, smiling at the deep moan of frustration Alec gives. 

He stares Alec down as he brings his hand to his own mouth, licking thoughtfully. "Mmmm. Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want something?" Magnus laughs as Alec wriggles beseechingly at his feet. 

"My darling boy," he says, taking pity and yanking the tie down from Alec's mouth to dangle damply around his neck. "Just a taste, then," he says, offering one wet finger just close enough for Alec to reach if he leans for it. He does, and Magnus allows himself a moment to close his eyes and groan at the feeling of Alec's tongue feverishly licking at his fingertip. 

"Please, Magnus," Alec says, groaning.

"My darling, whether you come or not is none of my concern. My offering has been made," Magnus says, giving a moue of false sympathy before wiping his hand dry on the repurposed remains of Alec's shirt. 

"And mine?" Alec asks, obviously on edge.

"Tonight we choose our sacrifices, Alec," Magnus says softly. The moment stretches between them, dark and heady, until finally Alec's gaze goes slightly glassy and he nods. 

Magnus can feel the weight of it, the giving-over of vulnerability that flows from Alec to him in the connection they've forged. It's nothing so brash and coarse as common magic, and in deference Magnus lets the bindings fall loose from his magic's grip, draping away in sweat-soaked shreds. Alec holds the pose for a moment, then slowly brings his hand around to press against his own cock, untouched and standing erect between his bare thighs. 

Magnus watches as Alec strokes himself, tentatively at first, then with a brutal, efficient rhythm that they both know from experience will likely bring him off in minutes. His lips thin, pressing together in concentration and tension. He doesn't drop their eye contact.

Neither does Magnus. He stops watching Alec's hand on his cock, devoting himself to drinking in the look on Alec's face as his takes himself to the brink of the edge, then drops his hands to his thighs. The look on his face as he works through the self-control of the thwarted pleasure is one of the more fascinating things Magnus has seen this century. Alec takes three deep breaths, then takes his cock up again. 

Magnus marvels at the boy's commitment, and the sight inspires his own body to respond more quickly than his usual refractory period. He reaches out, almost shyly, to cup Alec's face as they both bring themselves to the edge one last time. Magnus briefly considers taking the gentlemanly route of joining Alec in his self-imposed deprivation, but decides at the last minute that his long long life is much too short for that. He presses his thumb into Alec's mouth, gratified at the moan that comes out (and the quickly abandoned masturbation). Alec leans forward, rubbing his face against Magnus's cock, then taking him as far as he can before his unfortunate gag reflex kicks in. They both moan as Magnus comes weakly in Alec's mouth, and Magnus kisses him furiously, chasing the taste of himself in Alec's gasps and charming whimpers.

"You didn't come untouched," Magnus says archly, dragging Alec up to wedge into the chair with him and surveying the wreckage of Alec's outfit, his cock still dark, full against his belly. 

"Sacrifices," Alec mumbles, "I didn't come touched, either, did I?" and Magnus is so grateful to have him in his arms that he magics him up a new pair of slacks in spite of himself.


End file.
